


Apple of Blackwell's Eye

by ConfirmationBiasMachine



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Comedy, Crush, Crushes, F/F, Flirting, Fluff, Gay, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Romance, Unrequited Crush, Wholesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-06 00:06:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15874476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConfirmationBiasMachine/pseuds/ConfirmationBiasMachine
Summary: Your name is Carmen Angelo, and you're recently enrolled in Blackwell Academy. It's not long before the students of Blackwell start to take a liking to you, despite your insecurity and inability to handle any social situation, let alone crushes.Six students crush on you over the course of your first month at Blackwell. Who will you end up with?A reader-insert fluff fic. Essentially a 5 + 1 entry, inspired by similar works.





	1. Amber

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, all!
> 
> I wanted to try a new approach to writing, perhaps more free-form-ish. It’s also a great opportunity to get to characterize the denizens of Arcadia Bay in much greater detail.
> 
> Without further ado, here we go.

**Chapter 1: Rachel Amber**

**Day -1, Blackwell Academy Parking Lot, 12:03 PM.**

Move-in is hell.

It doesn’t help that your parents essentially eloped immediately after dumping your things off in the Blackwell parking lot, with not so much as a “have fun, sweetie!” Even though you’ve been on a tour of the campus once or twice, you still have absolutely no idea what you’re doing, and it shows in almost every step you take on the hallowed grounds of Blackwell Academy.

Hauling things to your dorm is painful. You’re crossing the quad, pushing a menagerie of different items in the rolling bin that the welcome committee signed off to you. You don’t have a lot of muscle, so fatigue kicks in quickly. You glance about the courtyard to make sure that nobody is in the way of your painfully slow progress. There’s a sizable amount of the student population just hanging out in the space, actually, which makes you more nervous. Near the front, a group of skaters are practicing their moves (you wonder if Arcadia Bay is an appropriate place to longboard), and the buzzing of a drone, presumably piloted by student, catches your ear as it flits about campus. Another, much more cliquey looking group is chilling out underneath a tree, and you almost think you can catch a scent of weed wafting from them as they converse. It seems like most of these kids are either returning students or are simply less socially awkward than you. Welp.

The weight of all of your clothes, electronics, and small pieces of furniture make the bin hard to control, so it’s little surprise that as you’re distracted, your chariot of death by belongings smacks into someone in front of you. Bumping into her causes her gasp and turn, a look of surprise flickering across her face. You note that she’s wearing a Blackwell “move-in” T-shirt, adorned with an image of a Native American totem, an otter wrapped around the design; they must be a student helper. As her hair whips around, you spot a distinct blue feather earring glide by, distracting you from the fact you almost committed murder before the first day of school.

“Woah, careful with that bin, Ms. Road Rage,” the girl exclaims jokingly. You react by mumbling something along the lines of “s-sorry…” and simply try to roll on past. However, instead, she simply takes the other end of the bin, pulling you in a new direction.

“It seems like you’re new here, huh.”

Great, is it that obvious? You manage to shoot a shy smile back at her. “Y-yeah…”

“Then let me help you, sister,” she smiles a sideways glance towards you, and you feel a complicated stirring in your chest. “The dorms are this way. Come along, newbie!”

As the two of you make your way through the courtyard, you become faintly aware of how hauntingly beautiful this person is. The way her hair seems to naturally flow down her back, and the perfection of her jawline, the way she’s tied down her shirt to expose her waist, the _feather_ … it’s a lot to take in at once, and you numbly follow along, grateful that she’s taking the initiative to bring you there.

“By the way, my name is Rachel!” she grins again, flashing her name tag, along with that authentic look that pulls you in. “What’s yours?”

“Umm…” You stammer uselessly, still caught up in the sensory overload that is move-in. “C-carmen…”

“Carmen,” she repeats, and you swear that your name suddenly sounds angelic for the first time. “I’ll have to remember that one. It’s a very sturdy name, don’t you think?”

Rachel gives you a wink, and despite contradicting her statement, you feel like your legs will collapse. You mentally slap yourself. She’s probably just teasing. “Th-thanks… Rachel is a pretty name too…” you return.

“Pretty vanilla, if that’s what you mean,” she replies, almost a tinge of sadness in her voice. You chastise yourself internally. _Nice going, loser. You just blew it._

But she continues. “I mean, I’ve known maybe five Rachels in my life. But you’re the first Carmen I’ve talked to! I should feel honored, meeting a Carmen for the first time.”

You feel your cheeks flushing, not sure how to respond. It’s really hard to concentrate on anything besides her face and voice. “You’re t-too kind, Rachel…”

“Think nothing of it,” she waves her hand dismissively, and you try your best to obey her command.

She’s a natural flirt, that Rachel. She appears to be very physically affectionate, interacting with other student helpers by reaching out and touching their hands, hips or shoulders as they pass or stop to talk. Her laughter rings, a delightful squeal with light roughness around the edges, as though she had spent her whole life laughing and her voice had grown hoarse from doing so.

You overhear a short conversation she has with someone holding a sketchbook, and he mentions briefly about confirming a modeling gig later that afternoon. _Well of course Rachel’s a model_ is all you can think.

You shouldn’t be so absorbed by this person, someone you hardly even know. Perhaps it’s just something about her personality. Maybe it’s that you didn’t expect someone to be so friendly to a stranger like you. You were prepared for cutthroat high school diplomacy and stealthily creeping past the hierarchy system, but she seems to transcend all of that, at least in this moment.

“Up this ramp, Carmen!” Rachel calls, and you realize the both of you are standing in front of Prescott Dormitory, your final location. “You’ll have to put your back into it!”

“O-ok…” you mumble, dazed that the trek is almost over. Between the two of you, you manage to get the bin onto the stoop.

Entering the dorms feels like entering an ant hill, with the number of students and their family scurrying about, shoving objects that honestly shouldn’t fit through the tiny front door through, and barking instructions that echo through the building. In light of the mass exodus of parents, you’re a little grateful that yours didn’t come along, really. Your bin slides through the front door with hardly any clearance, an uncomfortable scraping noise as it passes the frame.

“Sorry things are so hectic,” Rachel explains, as you finally make your way into the hallway, passing a pair of students helping lift a massive plasma TV through a door. “I wish I had more time to talk, but I’ve gotta be hurrying back and forth so I can help the new arrivals.”

“That’s ok,” you reassure. “Th-thanks for helping me out to begin with.”

“My pleasure,” she purrs, winking. That strange stirring in your heart returns with vigor. You clamp down on it immediately. There’s no way that she’s serious about her flirtations. Sure, the way she’s been acting this whole time is about the most attention you’ve ever received in your high school experience, but to her, it must mean nothing… right? Besides, you’re not about to ruin the opportunity for a good friendship by falling for someone this early on.

Another parent, arms full of knick knacks, almost runs into you, since you’re standing in the middle of the hallway, and you come back to the present, forcefully maneuvering your pile of crap against a wall.

Soon, perhaps too soon, you both end up in front of room 225, your designated living space for the year. Toying around in your pocket, you retrieve the key that the welcome committee handed you. You unlock the door, and Rachel helps guide your belongings in.

The space is nothing spectacular. A blue carpet and school-sanctioned furniture adorns the space. There isn’t much, just a wooden frame and plastic mattress for a bed, and a desk. A built in closet on your right comes with drawers and cubbies. The room carries the scent of generic Febreze. But for some reason, Rachel’s presence makes the place feel just a little more welcoming, a warm glow that coats the room in kindness and familiarity.

“Here’s your place, I guess,” Rachel exhales, leaning against the door frame. “I actually live just down the hall, in room 228. If you need anything, give me a holler.”

“C-cool…” you say, but what you’re really worried about is Rachel’s movement towards the door. It’s like she’s got somewhere else to be already, and your fragile, socially anxious heart isn’t sure if it can handle being abandoned so soon. Rachel almost seems to sense this, and gives you a sympathetic look.

“Oh, don’t look so worried,” she takes your hand, squeezing lightly, sending a zap through your arm. “I’m hella busy this afternoon, but we’ll meet up again soon, I’m sure.”

“...O-ok!” you squeak.

Satisfied, she lets go of your hand, and twirls to face the exit. With a “Ciao!” and a hand wave, she exits the room.

For a moment, you stand there, dumbfounded, trying to figure out exactly what had just transpired in these last few minutes. You try to sort through your feelings, your experiences, and come to a single conclusion: you think you just made a friend. Maybe.

Reality settles in and you sigh. Even if you made a friend, the priority right now is to turn this space into a home that you could actually exist in for a year. You stuff your feelings away and approach your bin. It’s time to do some unpacking.


	2. Marsh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You see a girl getting hassled on the diag.
> 
> You step in to intervene.
> 
> She asks you to tea.

**Chapter 2: Kate Marsh**

**Day 2, Blackwell Diag. 3:27 PM**

You can’t believe your luck.

Despite your best efforts to keep yourself out of trouble, you and Rachel walk right by a situation that calls for your assistance as you leave Photography class.

You two are just chatting about various bands you listen to, as you pass through the diag to the parking lot, when you spot her.

A couple of jocks are pushing around this quiet, demure girl that you’ve seen a few times in the dorms, her back against a bulletin board as they taunt her. You definitely remember her distinctive style, the high stacked bun and chaste congregation-style clothes, during the school tour. At the floor hall meeting, you heard her ask your RA about the rules on pets, the first indicator that she was good people. Her shy and docile behavior also suited you fine, since you also tended to gravitate towards people similar to you.

“It’s Logan. And Zach. They’re a bunch of blockheads who don’t know any better,” Rachel mutters under her breath. You nod, pretty bothered by the fact that they’re messing with someone so modest and humble like that girl.

“Come on, church girl. Too afraid to date some honest-to-god men?”

“P-please stop,” the girl whimpers in reply.

The blatant disrespect causes your blood to boil. The fact no one else is stepping in to help doesn’t help; there’s about a dozen students scattered across the diag, but none of them are even paying attention. It’s like the student body is being willingly ignorant about this very public confrontation. You bravely step away from your newfound friend, and towards the two boys.

“Hey,” you utter, louder than you intended, which grabs their attention. The girl against the boards looks shocked, her face flushing red as you approach.

“Oh, look, more fresh blood,” one of them turns, presumably Logan, a smirk adorning his lips. He raises his stature as he greets you. “Back off if you know what’s good for you.”

“Or wh-what?” You stammer, internally frustrated that your voice is failing you in a critical time. You feel your heart accelerating out of control, your social anxiety seriously kicking in now. You maintain eye contact with him nonetheless, making it clear you’re not going to back off.

Logan snorts. “Oh, you really are new here, huh? I guess I’ll have to teach you some manners.”

Part of you wants to respond with something like “says the guy pushing an innocent girl around” but your vocal chords freeze as he saunters towards you, cracking his knuckles together. Clearly, this blockhead is willing to throw down with women too. As your legs shake and your blood runs cold, you realize how frightened you are. No wonder Kate looked so paralyzed.

“You’ll have to go through me first, Logan.” Rachel steps in front of you, disarming the situation and letting a swirl of relief pass through your gut. You had a feeling she wasn’t going to leave you hanging. Her face is suddenly intense, a large contrast from her usual relaxed and informal demeanor, and she stands up straight to meet the jock.

Logan frowns, and you suddenly realize how much sway Rachel holds over the campus as he tries to mumble a response. “Rachel, I was just trying… she’s not… they’re-”

Rachel sighs, and she channels raw power through her voice. “Stop hassling the newbies. Football season hasn’t even started yet and you’re already acting like concussed idiots.”

“Come on Logan, she’s not worth it,” the other boy, probably Zach, calls as he shakes his head.

Finally, Logan grunts absently, stepping away from both of you, but jabbing a finger at you as he departs. “We’ll put a word in with Victoria about you, loser. I’ll be back for you and the church girl.”

They finally disappear around the corner toward the Blackwell pool, and you breathe a sigh.

You try not to think too hard about things, and fail miserably. Did he just say _Victoria_ , as in _Victoria Chase,_ the queen bee of Blackwell?

Crap. If there’s anything you learned in the last few days, it’s that Victoria Chase, leader of the Vortex Club, is the ultimate bitch in town. You didn’t want anything to do with her before, but now… you shudder to imagine the kinds of social horrors you’ll face now that you’ve provoked her ire.

Rachel grabs your shoulder, snapping your attention away from your thoughts.

“Are you alright?” she asks, having returned to her usual casual attitude. “You had me worried, wandering off like that to face them.”

“Th-thanks for saving me,” you mutter, putting your hands in your pockets. “I was afraid that they’d attack me or something.”

“They wouldn’t do anything,” Rachel scoffs. “They’re just throwing their weight around. They always try to haze the newer students, but I can never understand why. Maybe it’s a football thing. Or a boy thing. Or both.”

“Yeah,” you manage to reply, but your concerns about aggravating Victoria seem to flash through your face, because Rachel immediately picks up on it, rubbing your arm.

“Don’t worry about Ms. Chase,” she reassures you. “She’s harmless, even though everyone’s hyping her to be some kind of Queen. Trust me, I know her type, and she can’t do anything to you while I’m around.”

You smile faintly, glad Rachel is looking out for you. “Thanks, Rachel. I don’t know why you’re sticking your head out for me… I mean, I’m nothing special…”

“Nonsense!” she beams brightly in response. “Stepping in to help Kate was really ballsy, and I really respect what you did for her. I pick pretty good friends, don’t you think?”

“Sure,” you grin. Speaking of, you glance around to see if that girl, Kate, is still around. Not seeing her anywhere on the diag, you figure she probably slipped away immediately following your intervention. A smart move, but you feel just a tad disappointed that you didn’t get to talk to her following the incident.

Rachel, again, uncannily is on the same wavelength as you. “Kate lives right next to you, Carmen. We should check the dorms to see if she’s back in her room!”

You nod, and the two of you head to the dorms.

\-----

**Day 2, Prescott Girl’s Dorms. 3:40 PM**

It’s a relief to find that Kate’s doing alright, answering the door with a shy smile.

“Hello- oh, it’s you two…” she ducks her head, and her hair sort of bounces in response to her head movement. You find it oddly endearing. “S-sorry that I left quickly without a word… I didn’t want to come off as unappreciative...”

“Don’t worry about it!” Rachel says confidently, and you notice Kate almost recoil. Apparently, she’s just as overwhelmed by social interaction as you are.

“We wanted to check in to make sure you were ok…” you explain. “Those guys were not very nice at all…”

Kate bites her lip, studying her socks in great detail. “I wish I could stand up for myself… but they were so persistent and rude and I just felt like a lot was happening at once. Sorry… that’s why I left both of you…”

“That’s totally fine!” Rachel says again, excitement radiating off of her. She reaches out to touch Kate’s arm, but stops midway, recalculating her approach. You appreciate her recognition of Kate’s discomfort. “Honestly, you’re free to do what you gotta do. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a load of crap and not worth listening to.”

Kate gives a faint smile. It looks like she’s just as charmed by Rachel as you are. “Thanks… uh, could I get your names again? S-sorry, I’m not good with those…”

Rachel seems to want to do the honors, and you simply give her the floor. “I’m Rachel, and this Carmen! We both live down the hall to the right. Carmen’s also new!”

You shyly wave, and she glances at you, red tingeing her cheeks. “Thanks to both of you. I don’t know what they wanted from me, but I’m glad that you were both there to help.”

“Of course,” you reply. She stares at your eyes with a sort of curiosity, and you wonder if there’s anything strange about your looks. You’re just wearing jeans and a dumb band t-shirt. Maybe you should have tried harder with your physical appearance, but adjusting to the school schedule after summer really made you super tired and unable to manage much more than what you have right now. Perhaps once the weekend gets here, you’ll be able to organize your wardrobe.

Bringing your attention back to the conversation, she makes a sudden request. “I… I don’t want to be too hasty about things, but… I was thinking of doing tea nights on weekends. If I invited both of you, would you be interested in coming?”

“I’m not a big tea person myself,” Rachel shrugs. “But Carmen might be down!” You realize that Rachel is attempting to wingwoman you into getting more friends, and you remind yourself to thank Rachel later today.

You nod. “I’m always down to make new friends, and tea sounds lovely.”

“Great!” Kate exclaims, her face brightening up. It’s like she’s defeated her anxiety for a split second. “I’ll make plans for the weekend. Gosh, I’m excited, I’ve never done a tea event here before.”

Rachel beams again, leaning against the door frame. “Yeah, well, it’s always good to have things to do on school grounds. It gets _real_ boring here sometimes. Speaking of, we’re about to grab some Dairy Queen off campus. You want to come along?”

Kate considers the request. “You both have already done so much for me. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, alright,” Rachel shrugs, then turns to you. “Hey, Carmen, I’m gonna run to the bathroom really quick. I’ll meet you at the parking lot in ten, ok?”

You give a thumbs up, and she disappears around the corner. It’s at this point that you realize, once again, that Rachel is leaving you alone with another human deliberately. You blush as you think about her motives.

“Well, while we’re waiting for Rachel, d-do you want to come in?” Kate squeaks, clearly nervous about having someone over.

“Only if you’re ok with it,” you reply, a little anxious yourself. Besides Rachel’s room, you haven’t really hung out at anyone else’s place.

Kate props the door open, gesturing for you to come in. You enter slowly, taking in the boxes that are still half unpacked, the largely filled closet and couch full of school supplies. You can smell dander of some sort of animal, and you spot the rabbit inside her cage at the far end of the room. The presence of the ball of fur with ears really makes the room feel so much more homely and safe.

“S-sorry… I’ve still got a lot to unpack,” Kate scratches the back of her neck. “It’s quite a mess, huh?”

“It’s great,” you breathe. “Can I pet your rabbit?”

“Go ahead. I’ve gotta clean my room anyway,” Kate giggles, bending over to pick up loose papers. You head to the cage, undoing the latch and scooping the white bun into your arms. It shivers and bumps at your forearm with its skull before settling as you sit down on the couch.

“She likes it when you run a finger over her spine,” Kate suggests, sweeping up parts of the room. “Oh, and if you want to feed her carrots, I’ve got some on the table.”

“Ok,” you reply.

As you pet Alice, you watch Kate whirl about the room, dusting and folding and organizing. Your favorite thing about meeting other introverts is when they exude excitement and confidence around you; it’s like watching a flower bloom in real time. And calling Kate a flower wouldn’t be the worst way to describe her, either. She’s very pretty in her own conservative way. Different from the raw, outstanding excitement of Rachel, more down to earth. Kate seems really comfortable with you being around, and you are almost absorbed by her quaint movements, when she turns and locks her hazel eyes to your stare again.

“I really am glad that we’re friends, Carmen,” Kate grins, and then stops herself short, shooting her glance to the floor. “Unless we aren’t friends… are we? Is it ok if I… I’m s-sorry, I’m not very good at this…”

“No, no, you’re fine,” you grin. Her bashful nature is awfully sweet. “I don’t judge at all…”

“Oh, good…” Kate sighed. “I’m not good at… this. You know. Making friends and…” her eyes catch your gaze for a second, and she blushes again. “S-sorry…” She sits on the opposite end of the couch, sighing.

“Hey, it’s ok,” you assure her, handing her Alice. She accepts the bunny, hugging close to her chest. “I’m not good around people either.”

“Really?” she looks surprised. “But you’re friends with Rachel Amber… she’s one of the most popular girls at school!”

You hum. “I never really thought of her like that before. She’s just another human to me. Like you! I don’t see why I should be treating you any differently than how I treat her. Unless you’re uncomfortable with it, I mean.”

“I see…” Kate murmurs. “I really don’t understand high school at all, I guess.”

“Me neither. Maybe we can slog through it together?” You offer, then immediately append, “as friends?”

You blush. The last thing you want to do is out yourself to someone, especially a Christian, without knowing anything about her. In your defense, she’s been acting awfully flustered around you, but that could just be her social anxiety talking. Unfortunately, your gaydar has been seriously acting up ever since you got here, not that you had a strong sense to begin with. First with Rachel, now with Kate. It was easy enough to peg people at your old school, but here, it was more complicated. At such a small institution in the rockies, you couldn’t be sure that people were wearing flannel to signal to their lesbian friends or because it was actually some local fashion trend.

Kate nods, thankfully missing the undertones of your suggestion, stroking her rabbit thoughtfully. “Yeah. I like that. You’ll come for tea, then…?”

“Absolutely.” You smile.

You feel your phone buzz. You check to see who it is.

 

**Rachel: Yo Carmen, get your butt to the parking lot! I’ve gotta introduce you to my other friends >.<**

 

“I’ve gotta go, Kate,” you get up from the couch. “See you this weekend!”

“Ok!” She beams, and you feel your heart simmer as you take in her smile.

You’ve gotta stop crushing on your new friends like this.


	3. Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You feel the aftereffects of defending Kate.
> 
> Someone pulls you into the bathrooms for a brief chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I've been updating this fic relatively quickly because I have a lot of connected ideas that work really well. For readers of my other works, I promise I'll get on those as soon as I have time!
> 
> That's all!

**Chapter 3: Victoria Chase**

**Day 9, Room 102, Photography Class. 10:23 AM.**

“...if you turn to your syllabus, you’ll see that you will have to read Chapters four through eight, and chapters ten to twelve. The reason I’m telling you to skip nine is because that chapter is full of outdated terminology and because the author decided to write this section like a damned autobiography…”

The lecturer, Professor Gutierrez, speaks with rapid excitement, making it hard not to pay attention to her. She’s quite eccentric for a photography teacher, but you kind of like that about her. Her tendency to ramble on and on about the revolutionary nature of Margaret Bourke-White’s works or Dorothea Lange’s famous shots during the Great Depression are distracting when trying to write notes for class, but infinitely entertaining. She never comes off as a snob, somehow, and her lecture often draws you in quickly.

At least, normally you’d be paying attention. Recently, you’ve attracted the displeasure of the Vortex Club, no thanks to your intervention on behalf of Kate, and now, things were just getting petty. A paper ball smacks you upside the head, causing you to gasp in surprise. You turn to see who threw it, and it’s none other than Taylor Christensen, one of Victoria’s lackies. She giggles deviously, and you have half a mind to get up and flip her table when Gutierrez turns around.

“Alright, class, I know it’s early, but you don’t have to assault each other to stay awake. This is what coffee is for,” Ms. Gutierrez puts her hands on her hips. “Ok, guys? No more fighting in my class.”

The resounding silence seems to answer aptly for her, and she resumes her lecture. “Anyway, as I was saying, the ancient pinhole cameras were initially used to study the stars, which is why our understanding of photography is so intimately connected to the sky…”

You glare at Taylor, who simply pretends as though nothing happened. As if to make things worse, Victoria chooses to respond to the lecture in her usual, snobby way, as though she weren’t connected to the incident at all.

“Like the Hubble Space Telescope, right?” Ms. Gutierrez’s eyes light up, and you want to punch the Queen of Blackwell in the face.

“Precisely. It’s always felt to me like a natural progression from the original development of camera obscura. Of course, the technological advancements made since then are leaps and bounds beyond that of the astronomers of yore…”

The paper ball is still sitting on your desk, and you decide to unravel it to see what it says.

 _“Fuck you, bitch,”_ is written in elegant cursive, and the contrast between the mode of delivery and the quality of handwriting almost makes you laugh. Not the most intimidating message you’ve ever received during your high school experience. Still, the warning makes you shiver. Victoria’s got nastier things than this up her sleeve.

Your phone buzzes against your desk and you wince, flipping through your settings until you disable the vibrations. In a classroom as small as 102, the notifications sound like a goddamned earthquake.

 

**Kate_Marsh: Hey, you ok? :o**

**Maximus_in_the_Rye: yeah, what’s wrong w/ them? >.>**

 

You shoot a glance at both of your friends. Maxine Caulfield, sitting a few desks away, tries and fails to be subtle about her concern. Figures, she’s always been a little bit of a snoop.

It’s ok, though; Max is really kind of cool in her own way, too, with her neat polaroid and her sweet music taste. Going to Kate’s tea event and hanging out with the other students _was_ a good time, and you were glad that you have some friends to lean on now.

Kate just looks nervous and worried. You try your best to let them know it’s nothing serious, taking a pic of the tattered note and sending it to your groupchat.

 

**Carmen_Sandiego: I’m fine. Honestly, this is kinda cute. I want to put it up on my wall**

**Maximus_in_the_Rye: go for it! ^-^**

**RachAmber: The Vortex Club never flirted with me like this before :P**

**Kate_Marsh: I don’t understand you two**

 

Seeing their responses makes you feel a little better about the lecture. Maybe things are going to turn out alright. Even if the Vortex Club hounds you for the rest of the year, you can handle what they’ve got.

\-----

**Day 10, Just outside Room 102, Passing Time, 11 AM.**

You underestimate Victoria for the last time.

The next day, as you, Max and Kate are leaving class, you’re suddenly swept away by a flurry of motion in the hallways. It’s a surprise, until you realize the cheerleaders are doing recruiting work, and the footballers are helping. You can recognize one of the girls from around the dorms; her name is Dana, and although she’s gorgeous and nice to talk to in private, right now your memories of her are a little overshadowed by the incessant “Blackwell Otters!” chant that she’s starting.Between their annoyingly high pitched squeals and chants, and the extreme dancing that’s causing the interior to heat up and smell of sweat, you feel quickly overwhelmed, freezing in place in the crowd. 

That is, until a hand vice grips your wrist, and you’re pulled into the bathroom.

For a second, you think that it’s either Max or Rachel, but as your eyes adjust to the flickering fluorescents of the restroom, you suddenly realize you’re face to face with the Queen of Blackwell herself. Victoria Chase, in the flesh, pixie cut and rich clothes exactly as you know her. Only this time, she looks pissed. And at you.

“Well, well, well,” she snickers. “If it isn’t Carmen Angelo, the big bad rebel of Blackwell.”

“Th-that’s me,” you manage to stammer.

She makes note of that, wrinkling her nose as she speaks. “Ugh, do you know how to speak? You’re just like that fucking hipster.”

“You mean Max?” you wonder out loud. You wish you didn’t blurt things that came to your head so much.

“Yes, I mean _Maxine Caulfield,_ the selfie ho of Blackwell,” she mutters. She turns her attention back to you. “You’ve got my attention, Carmen. And not in a good way.”

She paces in front of the bathroom door. You step away from her.

“Wh-what do you want?” you ask cautiously, biting your lip.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Angelo,” Victoria sighs. “As if there’s anything I’d want from you…” And yet, as she speaks, you can see her flickering an eye in your direction, intrigued.

“I don’t want any t-trouble…” you slowly say, struggling to decide what to do with your body. “C-can you let me out-”

She answers by pushing you against the wall. It’s a soft shove, but you feel the air leave your chest upon impact. A surprised gasp leaves your lips. When you look up again, she’s got her hands on your shoulders, holding you firmly in place. You squeak.

“ _No one_ interrupts the Queen of Blackwell when she speaks,” she enunciates with a hiss, and you faintly catch the scent of spearmint leaving her mouth, the way it meshes with her usual lavender tones. “Capiche?”

“Uh… y-yeah…” you stammer. You’re suddenly very cognizant of how close she is, of the strength of her pressing you against the wall. Despite her clearly hostile approach, you feel that warm stirring in your chest, spreading through your body. She isn’t... coming on to you… is she?

Before you can have an opportunity to understand, she backs off, satisfied, leaving you with your rapidly unraveling thoughts. You stumble forward a little, mostly relieved, although a small part of you wants her hands on you again. You grimace and force that thought away. Eww.

“As I was saying, you’ve been nothing but trouble the moment you showed up. Disrupting the school balance, standing up for that lame church girl, and now spending time with Rachel Amber of all people…”

“Because she’s actually n-nice,” you blurt. Fuck. You and your big mouth.

She narrows her eyes, and steps right into your comfort zone, your back against the wall again. She sure knows how to command space. You watch her gaze as it scans your body again in an almost invasive fashion. Uncomfortable, you cover your chest with your arms in a bid for any kind of safety.

“Rachel Amber is a conniving _bitch,_ and I’m not about to let her usurp my fucking throne.” She jabs a finger in between your eyes. You wince. “Do you know how much effort I’ve taken to building my position here? And _she_ just waltzes in and everyone’s all over her shit like honey to fucking flies.” She turns away, clearly exasperated.

It’s odd. She’s clearly got everything she could ever want; a leadership position in a prestigious club, the top of the school monarchy, and a team of followers who worship her every move. And yet, in the moment, she seems even more insecure than you.

Just as you recover, she rubs her chin thoughtfully. “Then again… you do have a point…”

She turns back to you, a different, more cordial look in her eyes. You’re not sure if it betrays anything more than her cold exterior will allow, however.

“...Vortex Club is looking for new recruits this year. You should know this is a big opportunity for you. More than anything Rachel Amber could ever give you.”

You’re a little surprised by the proposition, but it does make sense. If a leader can’t intimidate someone away, they might make for a valuable asset.

“I’m d-don’t know…” you mutter. “Y-you did just physically assault me…”

“I gave you a loving push,” she retorts, crossing her arms. “Semantics.”

You roll your eyes. “Either way, wh-what could I possibly g-give you? Clearly you don’t like me that m-much...”

She raises her eyes. “Au contraire. You think I’d invite just anyone to join the Vortex Club?” She looks you up and down again, and sniffs dismissively.

“Listen up, because I’m not saying this again.” You half-nod, waiting for her to continue.

She paces as she talks. “You’re a capable and good student, you stand up for yourself, and you’re actually talented with your camera, unlike Max Selfie and her consort, Kate. It helps that you’re not half bad looking, and even though you’ve got that same starved puppy look like half of the school, at the very least that can be fixed. If you spent your time less around losers, you could be actually cool, like us.”

Her disdain for your newer friends is starting to make you a little frustrated.

“I’m not leaving my friends to join your club,” you respond, gritting your teeth. “I don’t c-care how cool I’d be.”

She scoffs. “I’ll give you time to think about it. If you’re interested, just show up to the next Vortex Party. Tomorrow at 9 PM at the Blackwell Pool. We’ll be waiting.”

You simply glare at her. She smirks slightly, and you’re surprised by her sudden slip of affection. But before you can process that, she grips your wrists, pulling your arms away from your body, and slamming them against the wall. She leans in, tickling your ear with her breath as she speaks.

“Oh, and one more thing,” she hisses, and you shiver despite yourself. “This. Never. Happened.”

You nod, blushing profusely as she lets go.

“Au Revoir!” She calls, cheerily, as though she didn’t just flirt in the most aggressive way possible. With that, she casually strolls away.

You push yourself off the wall, and realize you’ve been holding your breath this whole time. Taking a few good inhales, you give yourself some time to consider everything that’s happened.

Your gaydar is still probably broken, but as far as you can tell, Victoria might actually have the hots for you. You’ve never met a girl so physically intimate, with a haircut like that, that turned out to be _straight,_ that’s for sure. And you can’t think of any other reason why she might want you in the Vortex Club.

Even though it’s tempting, you consider against responding to her advances. Victoria might be attractive, but you’re not about to start dating someone so heartless and confused about themselves. She might not even be out to anyone yet. Either way, it’s not worth pursuing. Becoming even friends with the Queen of Blackwell is sure to stir up too much trouble, especially since it’s only been a few days into the school year…

...and here you are, making assumptions, yet again, about the girls you’re meeting. God, being a lesbian here is frustrating.

You open your phone up instinctively. Again, it seems like Max, Rachel and Kate have been texting you, sounding concerned.

 

**Maximus_in_the_Rye: @Carmen_Sandiego Hey where did you go? We lost you in the cheer squad -_-’**

**RachAmber: Sportsballers gotta sportsball, amirite**

**Kate_Marsh: we’re outside! Come find us :)**

**Maximus_in_the_Rye: Why are sports**

**Kate_Marsh: *Shrug* I don’t know**

 

You smile. These are the people you want to spend time with, not girls like Victoria.

 

**Carmen_Sandiego: I was held up. I’ll tell you all about it :P**

 

As you send the message, a thought runs through your head. Crashing a Vortex Party with your friends doesn’t sound like the worst idea...


	4. Graham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and your friends crash the Vortex Party.
> 
> Things go poorly with Victoria.
> 
> You meet a boy and keep him company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't as much of a Warren x Reader as much as it is Victoria x Reader + some Warren, but oh well.
> 
> Sorry if I didn't deliver on that sweet heterosexual action you might have been craving *shrug*

**Chapter 4: Warren Graham**

**Day 11. Blackwell Swimming Pool, 11:51 PM.**

**Cw: non consensual kissing**

Oh God.

You were not prepared for how  **loud** Vortex Club Parties were.

Sure, talking to your posse (Max, Kate, Rachel) and dolling up for an exciting school party seemed like a great idea at the time. It’s been forever since you busted out that cute pastel dress you’ve always wanted to wear but never had occasions for. A little makeup, and suddenly you felt like a freshman in high school again, excited for the coming night. 

You’re not the only one. Everyone’s done a little something for themselves; Kate has put together a shirt and skirt ensemble that still looks quite official, but passable for informal events like this. Rachel’s highlights are almost fluorescent, glowing cheeks making her look rather ethereal, contrasting with her torn-up punk look for the night. And Max is just… Max, but prettier. She’s wearing a simple black dress that she says she never breaks out except for formal events, which is kind of a shame. It looks really cute on her.

But, once inside the Blackwell swimming pool, any of the efforts you placed into your appearances becomes meaningless in the deafening, blinding, sensory overload that is Vortex Club’s back-to-school party. The thick scent of liquor and the vile odor of people going out without proper antiperspirant, or worse, those equipped with malignant levels of AXE spray, kills your nostrils. Laser beams put bright spots in your vision that don’t go away when you blink, and the surging wave of bodies dancing presses uncomfortably and nonconsensually against your skin. It’s all just… so much. What makes it worse is the fact that you can’t find your friends, having lost them in the mix when you entered.

A voice somehow pierces the EDM beats being played by the DJ. “Oh, look, the Blackwell rebel actually made it, huh!” 

You turn, and Victoria is here, verbal jabs and all. Great. As usual, she’s wearing an extremely intimidating outfit that seems to judge you, but it’s kind of nice and casual, this beautiful floral top with bright leggings. “I just w-wanted to see what it was like,” you exclaim over the bass wubs. “It’s… nice?”

She points to her ear, and you guess she’s unable to perceive anything you’re saying. Before you can repeat yourself, Victoria takes your hand, grasping it like you were in danger and yanking you out of the crowd. As you stumble alongside her, you can smell the liquor off of her body. She must’ve really gone all out, huh. 

You pass through a curtain on your way through, and upon entering, you find yourself in some sort of VIP section. Surprisingly, the music is a little quieter here, probably because it’s behind all of the speakers.

“Damn, Tori, is this the new blood?” you hear someone else chuckle. You turn to see who it is, and it’s one of Victoria’s followers, the one with the black hair.

“Ssshuut up, Courtney. And it’s Victoria to you,” Chase slurs angrily. She turns back to you, head cocked just a little. You’d think that with such a controlling personality, she wouldn’t be so drunk at her own party. But then again, maybe that’s just how she lets out stress, you reason. That’s probably why there’s a private area for her, after all. 

Victoria lets out a dramatic sigh as she slumps against a couch, and motions for you to join her. You hesitantly accept her offer. She offers you a beer, and you faintly wave your hand in response, since you’re really not an alcohol sort of person. Giving you some kind of look, she opens the bottle for herself. After the two of you settle, she speaks again in that strange unarticulated mummer that you’ve never heard from her until this evening. “Ssssooo… Angelo… does this mean you’re interested in the Vortex Club, then…?”

“Well… it is Blackwell tradition to go to at least one of these p-parties,” you answer as you sit forward, a little apprehensive of the distance between you two. “It’s kind of just how things work, right?”

You can’t tell if Victoria looks disappointed, relieved, or some combination of the two. “Well, of course that’s how things work…” she motions to herself with her bottle. “This is my domain, Carmen. You hear me?”

You nod, too stimulated from the environment and Victoria’s aggression to really answer in any other sort of way. It seems like the rest of Vortex is busy hanging out with each other to pay attention to the both of you. The only ones watching with any curiosity seem to be Victoria’s main lackeys, Courtney and Taylor.

“Good…” Victoria drawls, after a long sip from her drink. “It’s the first thing you should know about the Vortex Club…” 

You’re still nodding, pressing your palms against the surface of the sofa. It offers comfort seating that isn’t available in the rest of the pool. Maybe that’s one perk of being part of the Vortex, but if drinking and hanging out in loud, crowded spaces was all they could offer, then you start to realize being involved might just make you more nervous than anything else.

“I’m glad you came, Carmen,” she says. “I knew you’d be interested.”

Maybe it’s the music, or the environment in general, but you’re not in the best of headspaces to make nuanced statements. You shake your head. “I appreciate your s-support, but I’m not sure I can do the Vortex Club this year.”

You can see the discouragement in her eyes, and you hastily follow up your sentence. “I’m s-sorry. I know you were probably excited about me joining, and I understand it was a p-privilege… I probably have too much homework to be a useful member anyway…”

She really doesn’t look happy, just staring down at her bottle with a blank expression. Your stammer worsens as you scratch your neck. “S-sorry... I d-didn’t mean to let you down.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she barbs, her words stinging. “We’ll live without you, Angelo.”

You sort of grunt in affirmation, rubbing at your forearm. “That’s g-good…” 

“Still, you’re always welcome to join if you’re interested,” she leans back against the sofa again, resuming her usual attitude. “We’re always down to do some charity work.”

Welp. Not being bullied by her was nice while it lasted. You do the thing where you use your cell phone to escape from the moment. Maybe you could text your friends, see if they’re doing alright. Or at the very least use it as a convenient means of escape.

“I m-might be headed out now…” you mutter, pretending that you’ve already unlocked your phone and read through your messages.

Victoria coos in a strange tone. “So soon?”

“I… um, my friends are waiting for me b-back at the dorms…” you start, when suddenly Victoria’s hand snaps past you, snatching your phone away from you. Startled, you reach out to recover your last source of solace, and you accidentally slam into her chest as she plays keepaway with it.

“What? Am I not enough for you, Angelo?” she murmurs, several different emotions mashed together in the delivery of that line. You’re starting to feel rather uncomfortable, and you’re ready to get up to go when she pushes you into the back of the couch, arm pinning you in place.

Then she kisses you.

Her lips are coated in a sugary lip gloss, combined with the unsavory flavor of vodka and beer. The kiss is uncomfortable and forced, not what you expected out of your first experience at Blackwell. Victoria is more heavily inebriated than you initially thought. 

She tries to shove her tongue into your mouth, and that’s when your anxiety really kicks in. You faintly recall placing your hands and pressing against her shoulders, propelling her away. Snatching your phone away from her, you get up, throwing the curtains wide. Everything is a blur, a much too sober experience as you race out of the building as quickly as you can. Despite your speed, you can hear Victoria calling after you. 

“Carmen, you get back here right now!”

You do your best to ignore her. 

\-----

You’ve made it outside. Finally. The fresh September Wisconsin air absolutely rejuvenates you, and you discover a newfound appreciation for the outdoors after that leaving that mess of an interaction. 

_ Is this really how Blackwell’s social scene is like?  _ You wonder. You push through circles of talking classmates and try to avoid looking at any pairs making out, and finally, the dark sky greets you. You greatly prefer this space to that of the humid laser party tomb of the Blackwell Pool.

It makes you feel better that you’re not the only one trying to escape. There are students stumbling in and out of the building, clearly wasted. As you walk by, you catch the attention of a scrawny looking dude, eyes unfocused. 

“H-heeyy! If it isn’t Carmen Angelo. How’s it hangin?” he approaches you. You don’t really remember this boy. Maybe he’s in your science class. Either way, you hide your head and try to fast walk away. You’ve had enough unwanted attention tonight. 

He’s pursues you a few steps, and you’re so intent on losing him that you don’t pay attention, ironically, to what’s in front of you. You bump head-first into someone else, and you cry out more out of surprise than anything else. When you recover, you recognize the person you bumped into. 

Maxine Caulfield. Thank god.

“Max!” You breathe. 

She seems just as happy to see you, but there’s a lot of concern in her face. “Carmen! Where have you been? I’ve been searching all over for you. Kate’s totally wasted and Rachel’s taking care of her and-”

You didn’t expect her to be worrying so much, and you grab hold of her arm to assuage her. “Woah, slow down, Max. I’m fine.”  

She inspects you carefully. “What happened? Why weren’t you answering your phone? I…” She stops mid-sentence, noticing the boy that’s been pursuing you. “Warren?”

The boy, presumably named Warren, stumbles over to greet her. “Heyyyy… Max… didn’t think you were gonna make it out tonight…”  

Max takes stock of the situation. “Are you ok? You’re not looking so good...” 

Warren waves his arm, carrying half his body weight with him in the process. “I’m fine… trusht me…”

He’s clearly not “fine.” You’ve never really had any personal experience with alcohol, but you think the last time you’ve seen someone this bad was your father returning from a wine-tasting event, who reentered the house, mother in tow, sluggishly dragging himself up the stairs. Based on your sample size of two, you guess he’s had quite a bit to drink.

You and Max try and help him onto his feet, grabbing his arms and partially supporting him as you both maneuver towards the nearest seat.

“Man… I did not expect to have a girl on each arm tonight… ‘specially not under these circumstances...” he mumbles as you two set him down on a bench. 

Despite feeling sorry for the boy, you roll your eyes. Max catches your reaction, and after letting his head lean against a rail, she steps to your side to talk privately with you. 

“I’m apologize… he’s not usually like this.” Max rubs her arm, disconcerted. “He must be really far gone.”

You agree. “I think I’ve seen him around before. He seems like a big nerd.”

Max nods. “Yeah, he’s been playing WoW since the day it came out, if that gives you any idea. We tried a dungeon a few days ago, although my character was super underleveled. It was still lots of fun though.”

You feel a pang of jealousy rush through your body, but the rush of the party makes it difficult to comprehend your feelings. Maybe it’s the fact that this boy has had a special interaction with Maxine before, even if it’s something as trivial as video games. Your brain jumps to conclusions quickly, and you try your best not to think too hard about anything. You’ve already been through enough.

“I hope he feels better soon,” you say. 

Maxine rubs her chin. “Why don’t you wait here… I’ll go get some water for him. I’ll be back in less than a minute. I promise.”

You faintly smile. “Go ahead, Max. I’ll take care of him.”

With a breathless nod, Max runs back into the pool. You admire her bravery; you probably wouldn’t be able to stand being in there for much longer. Then again, she didn’t have the Queen of Blackwell try and come on to her, so maybe it isn’t exactly the same. Still.

Remembering why you were out here in the first place, you bite your nails nervously, hoping Max returns soon. You don’t want to face an angry Victoria again. Warren blubbers and groans, and you turn back to pay attention to him just as he retches into some nearby bushes. 

“Sh-shit, are you ok?” you ask, sitting beside him. You decide to stroke his back softly, since that’s what mom always used to do for you when you got sick. He simply moans in response, gagging and heaving from the aftershocks. As a silver lining, it seems like he’s sobering up a little more.

After regaining control over his body, Warren simply hangs his head and sighs. “Man… this sucks… is this what drinking is really like?”

You shrug. “I don’t drink. I don’t like the feeling.”

He rubs his face with his hands. “I just wanted to see what it was like to be cool… just for once. I didn’t think it would feel this awful.”

“You don’t have to go to Vortex Parties to be cool,” you offer. “Really, you shouldn’t feel pressured to do anything.”

He groans. “I know, it’s just… everyone in there... looked like they’re having a good time... I wanted to be a part of it.” 

He pauses between sentences to catch his breath. “Am I missing out on something?”

You shake your head. “Unless you count breaking your eardrums as something.”

He chuckles a little. “I like your style, Angelo.”

“Eh, I just exist the best I can,” you shrug. 

You would say more, but it looks like your actions are finally catching up to you. A preppy looking boy is making a fuss, scattering couples and recovering students as he shoves his way through the crowd. You recognize him as Nathan Prescott, one of those  _ other  _ Vortex Club boys who was basically Victoria, but worse, since he’s a  _ boy _ .

“Get out of my way, you cretins!” He finally spots you as you get up from the bench. “You! Carmen! You’re mine!” 

He’s marching over, looking to start something, and you ball up your fists, prepared for a fight. You’ve seen fisticuffs at your old high school, and they usually ended up with the offending students being sent to the principal’s office. But there are no teachers here this time. You frantically try to recall one of those self-defense courses you saw on URoll once.  _ Is it the hips or the leg that I’m supposed to push off of?  _

Fortunately for you, just as Nathan gets in your face, a blur of motion to your left flank catches both of you off guard. Warren’s pushed himself off the bench, using the momentum to shove Nathan into a hedge. You back off, and suddenly it’s feeling a lot like Street Fighter, except with two very drunk teenagers trying to box and failing quite miserably at it.  __

Maxine arrives with her water bottle, her mouth agape just as Warren lands a clean punch to Nathan’s nose. Prescott spins around and falls over, and the crowd you didn’t notice congregating around the fight *ooohs* and shouts in surprise and celebration. Before you can really comprehend anything else, Max has both you and Warren’s hands, and is dragging you both out towards the dorms. 

“C’mon, grab him and let’s get out of here!” Max hisses, and you oblige, hurrying him along the diag to the dorms, hopefully before Nathan sees.

If you hadn’t pissed the Vortex Club off before, this certainly did the trick.


End file.
